


Bobby Doesn't Know

by runningwithdinosaurs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Douchebag boyfriend, Ficlet, Humor, M/M, POV Outsider, Scotty doesn't know, and that outsider is the douchebag, douchebag OC, fic prompt, gratuitous references to Eurotrip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3469193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningwithdinosaurs/pseuds/runningwithdinosaurs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bobby doesn’t know that Stiles and me<br/>Do it in my loft every Sunday<br/>He tells him he’s in church but he doesn’t go<br/>Still he’s on his knees and Bobby doesn’t know!”</p>
<p>(Or the one where Stiles starts dating a douchebag in senior year and Derek does something about it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bobby Doesn't Know

**Author's Note:**

> For the tumblr prompt: “Don’t make it into a big deal." Sterek. 
> 
> I never liked the movie "Eurotrip," but I always LOVED the scene where Fiona breaks up with Scotty by a random Matt Damon singing "Scotty Doesn't Know." It's a masterpiece. And I know we're supposed to feel bad for Scotty in this scene, but God I couldn't help but give Fiona and MD mad props. I wanted to write a story using this trope, but so you're rooting for the "Fiona" character, not "Scotty." Thus, "Bobby" was born. He's probably the most terrible person I've ever written. And I loved it. I also had fun rewriting the song lyrics ;-)

Everything was going perfectly to plan. His parents were out of the house, three kegs were tapped and ready to go, fellow grads were streaming into his backyard ready for a killer party, and Stiles looked so fucking sinful in his tight shirt and skinny jeans. Bobby was ready to go.

“You ready, babe?” he whispered in Stiles’s ear, making sure to get a little nibble action in, and snaked his arm possessively over Stiles’s shoulders.

Stiles side-eyed him. “So ready.”

When Bobby had moved to Beacon Hills, he’d thought his life was over. San Francisco was his _home_. Beacon Hills only had _one_ gay bar, no chain restaurants and it was all just _woods_ , mostly. Bobby resigned himself to a sexless, boring-ass life. Until he’d met the hot piece of ass that was Stiles Stilinski.

Stiles had been getting over a bad break-up—with a _girl_ , no less—and he’d been up for anything. Including Bobby’s dick. _Boom_.

They’d dated all through their senior year, with the occasional break when Stiles caught him with some other guy at _Jungle_. A guy had needs, OK? But Stiles always came back to him.

Even if his friends hated him. Yeah, Bobby was pretty sure Stiles’s whole pack of weirdos had it out for him. But they were a co-dependent shit show. Their little ring leader, Scott, was _way_ too cheerful for a normal teenage boy. He _had_ to be on something. His girlfriend, Kira, was a total nerd. Lydia Martin, he was man enough to admit, terrified him. He avoided her at all costs. There were a few other guys in the group, William and Jason or something like that. And Danny, the only other gay guy in the school, who was in some sort of long-distance relationship. He’d shot Bobby down _hard_ the first week of school. And then glared at him harshly enough to peel paint every time he kissed or groped Stiles. Jealous asshole. Had his chance.

But there were two members of Stiles’s motley group who officially hated Bobby. Because they’d told him so to his face. Who _did_ that? First was Stiles’s ex-girlfriend, Malia. It was totally weird that Stiles and her were still friends, right? And she was insanely protective of him. He was pretty sure she’d actually growled and threatened to rip his throat out once. Crazy bitch.

Still not as bad as Derek Hale. The first month they’d been dating, Derek had _climbed in through Stiles’s bedroom window_ , seen Bobby about to give it to his bae and he’d come over, _yanked Bobby off Stiles_ and calmly stated, “No.” He’d looked at Stiles so seriously, so intensely, that a thrill ran through Bobby when Stiles hissed, “Yes,” in return. He actually crowed in triumph when Stiles pulled him back onto the bed. But Derek had proceeded to sit in Stiles’s desk chair and watch them, his eyes boring into Bobby’s back incessantly. And Bobby… well, he couldn’t get it up. No shame in that. You try to get hard with a serial killer staring at you and your boyfriend murmuring, “Ignore him. C’mon. He’s all bark and no bite. Just c’mon.” Worse yet, he’s pretty sure Stiles had thought his inability to perform was funny.

What were they all doing hanging out with the guy, anyway? He was ancient. Bunch of fucking weirdos.

It didn’t matter anyway. He’d graduated this morning and he was going to backpack across Europe all summer. And then he and Stiles were going to Stanford together. Bobby couldn’t promise he’d stay with Stiles once in college, though, because God are there tons of options on such a huge campus. But Stiles was his safety fuck, so to speak.

Stiles shifted in his grasp a little. “What’s the matter, babe?” Bobby leered. “Wanna get outta here already?” He and Stiles...hadn’t _done_ it in a while. A few weeks at least...maybe four months. Who was counting? But Stiles had sworn they’d do it on their graduation night and Bobby was gonna _hold him to it_.

Come to think of it, he was _totally_ going to dump Stiles’s frigid ass once they went to college.

“Umm, not yet,” Stiles answered. “But, uhh, actually it’s because I forgot to tell you the band I booked canceled and I had to get a new one at the last minute.”

Bobby was mad that Stiles had forgotten to tell him that huge detail. Of course he was. He’d let Stiles pick the band because the boy got contrary if he didn’t feel in control of something. “Well, who’d you get instead?” he asked, making sure to inject the proper amount of disappointment and disapproval into his tone.

Stiles shrugged. “Just this other local band. Moon Light.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Oh, they’re good,” Stiles smiled a little. “Hey, there’s Scott!” He squirmed out of Bobby’s embrace and hurried over to his overgrown puppy of a friend. Bobby admired his skin tight black jeans as he walked away.

No sooner had Stiles walked away then the band walked out on the stage he’d blackmailed his dad into renting (Don’t have videos of your “afternoon delight” with your secretary on your iPad unless you _want_ someone to find them, Dad. _Duh_.) and Bobby was appalled to recognize two of the members: that young deputy always hanging around the Stilinski house and asking Bobby if he’d yet to meet the Sheriff and his gun collection (he’d met the Sheriff _once_ and… it had not gone well. The man was crazy.) and fucking _Derek Hale_.

Seriously, Stiles? The creep who climbed through windows? Bobby searched the crowd for his boyfriend, but couldn’t spot him. Derek introduced the band as “Moon Light,” like Stiles had said and they started with a cover of Third Eye Blind’s “Graduate.” Real fucking original. F for creativity, Hale.

Bobby mingled with his guests and drank one or five beers, keeping an eye out for Stiles, as the band tripped their way through basically every cliché graduation song ever. They’d just finished Vitamin C’s “Graduation (Friends Forever)” and were starting Green Day’s “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” when Bobby spotted Stiles, surrounded by his friends. He snuck up on his boyfriend and yanked him into his arms tight, Stiles’s ass to his crotch (as it should be), and ignored Stiles’s yelp of surprise.

“This band is terrible,” he told the side of Stiles’s head, mouthing at his neck.

Scott glared at him. “Hey, man, Derek and Parrish are our friends. And I think they’re pretty awesome.”

“They’re great,” Lydia sniffed, as if that was the end of it.

Bobby didn’t dare answer her.

The band finished the current song they were mangling and Derek stepped up to the microphone. “Hey guys, thanks for listening. Once again, we’re Moon Light.” The crowd around them cheered. Plebeians. “I’d like to dedicate our last song to our gracious host this evening, Bobby Monroe.” Less cheers. Assholes.

Stiles tensed in his arms for a moment when the fast rhythm started, but he relaxed almost immediately. Derek slung his guitar around to his back, gripped the mic stand tight, opened his mouth, and started to sing.

    _“Bobby doesn’t know that Stiles and me_

_Do it in my loft every Sunday_

_He tells him he’s in church but he doesn’t go_

_Still he’s on his knees and Bobby doesn’t know!”_

Bobby blinked in confusion. In his arms, Stiles started to shake.

    _“Oh Bobby doesn’t know!_

_So don’t tell Bobby!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!_

_So don’t tell Bobby!_

_Stiles says he’s researching_

_But he’s under me_

_And I’m not stopping…”_

Derek tore into the chorus again, the repetition of _Bobby doesn’t knows_ , and Bobby didn’t know what was going on. Stiles was still vibrating in his arms, and he thought maybe he was crying, but then Stiles hitched forward to rest his hands on his knees and Bobby realized he was laughing.

    _“I can’t believe he’s so trusting_

_While I’m right behind you thrusting_

_Stiles’s got him on the phone_

_And he’s trying not to moan_

_It’s a three-way call and he knows nothing, nothing!”_

“I can’t believe he actually did it,” Kira squealed, coming over and yanking on Stiles’s arm.

“He said he was going to,” Stiles replied, righting himself and wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “But I didn’t believe him.” And without a single glance at Bobby, he took off for the stage.

A heavy hand landed hard on his shoulder. “Don’t make it into a big deal,” Scott commanded, staring pointedly at Bobby.

    _“We’ll put on a show!_

_Everyone will go!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!”_

Stiles jumped onto the stage and made his way toward a still-singing Derek.

    _“On my stomach, why not?_

_I love it when you top_

_Cause you put on a show_

_Life is so hard because Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!”_

Bobby watched in horror as Stiles crowded Derek and kissed him hard, tangling his fingers in the older man’s hair. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’s waist and pulled him close. There was literally no space between them. The microphone picked up their moans.

Bobby was going to be sick.

***

Derek couldn’t have kept the huge grin from his face once Stiles broke away even if he’d wanted to. Stiles beamed back at him, breathtaking and kiss drunk. Derek dragged him in close and started singing again, picking up the chorus from Jordan.

    _“Bobby doesn’t know_

_That I love him so_

_Bobby’s gotta know!_

_I’m gonna tell Bobby!_

_Gonna tell him myself!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby has to_

_Bobby has to_

_Bobby has to go!”_

The rest of the pack had climbed onto the stage and they were dancing. Scott, especially, looked ecstatic. Probably because he’d hated Stiles’s douchebag boyfriend almost as much as Derek.

    _“Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!”_

“So don’t tell Bobby!” Stiles yelled into the microphone.

    _“Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!_

_That I love Stiles so!”_

“So don’t tell Bobby,” Stiles chimed in, pinking up at Derek’s word choice. It wasn’t like he hadn’t told Stiles how much he loved him, how much he meant to him, a million times before.

    _“Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby doesn’t, Bobby doesn’t_

_Bobby doesn’t…_

_Bobby doesn’t know!”_

“Bobby doesn’t know!” The whole pack was singing now. Derek kissed Stiles again, still so happy that they’d come clean about their feelings for each other four months prior. Stiles hadn’t wanted to break up with the douchecanoe until graduation because “he’s in all of my classes, Derek, and he’s a vindictive bastard. He’ll make my life a living hell.”

Derek had offered to “persuade” the creep to leave Stiles alone, but Stiles replied, “With our luck, you’ll wolf out. And we don’t need _Bobby_ knowing about werewolves.” From that point on, Stiles had been Bobby’s in name only. And Stiles and Derek had sex on basically every surface in Derek’s loft and Stiles’s room.

    _“Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!_

_Bobby doesn’t know!”_

“Bobby’s gotta go!” Stiles finished. Bobby was still standing in the crowd (which had wisely moved away from him), visibly seething. “By the way, I’m going to Berkeley, dumbass. Closer to all of _this_ ,” Stiles motioned to Derek and then the pack.

Bobby stormed off in the direction of his house. The crowd cheered wildly. And Derek hugged Stiles tight and whispered into his ear, “I think Bobby might know now.”

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it. Hope you enjoyed. As ever, I [tumble](http://runwiththisdinosaur.tumblr.com/). And I'm currently accepting prompts!


End file.
